So Wide A Sea
by Deadly Chakram
Summary: After Aragorn's death long after Sauron's defeat, Legolas finally gives into the Sea-Longing and departs with Gimli for Valinor. Legolas' POV.
1. Chapter 1

So Wide A Sea

RATED: PG-13 for some semi-graphic depictions of violence.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: No folks, I am not the reincarnation of the great J.R.R. Tolkien, not do I own any of the following characters.  This story is for entertainment purposes only.  I receive absolutely no money for this story.  The only payment I receive is reviews from readers like you, so please read and review.  I do sincerely hope you enjoy the story.

SUMMARY:  After Aragorn's death long after Sauron's defeat, Legolas finally gives into the Sea-Longing and departs with Gimli for Valinor.  Legolas' POV.

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Night settles over all the world, cool and deep like a comforting blanket.  In the cloudless skies above, cold pale stars shine silently and the moon throws down a milky, silvery light, the reflections of it dancing on the waves like so many diamonds.  There is no noise except for the gentle lapping of the waves at the sides of the grey ship that will carry me across the sea.  A steady wind fills the sails, moist and smelling of salt.

Normally, I would be in high spirits on a night such as this.  But not tonight.  Instead, my heavy heart disspells all mirth and not even Gimli can lift my spirits, for I am greatly conflicted, my heart laying in two places.  He senses this, and as of yet, he has left me to myself.  For that, part of me is glad, though I dare not show it.  For I have left my home in Middle Earth to make my finally journey – that which shall see me in Valinor for the rest of my days.  I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this for many years, ever since that fateful day I heard the wailing of gulls.  And yet, I still feel an incredible amount of sadness in leaving Middle Earth behind.  I remind myself that there is nothing left there for me, for my friends have all departed, some in death, and others to Valinor long ago to live out what life was left to them.

It is not that I am the first of the elves to leave.  Nay, I am the last of the Firstborn to make the journey.  All others have perished or crossed the sea already.  But I could not leave, not while my friends still drew breath, and certainly not while any of my people still lingered in Middle Earth.

For it was not long after the war with Sauron and the restoration of Gondor that I made a trip back to my home in Mirkwood.  My father was glad to see me and my homecoming was greatly celebrated.  All that season I stayed home, never sensing that anything was amiss, until late one evening.  It was then that my father came into my room as I was poring over a book.

"Legolas," he said, entering the room and sitting at the edge of my bed.  "We need to talk."

"Of course atar," I had responded, shutting the book and leaving it off to one side.  "What is on your mind?"

"I…I am…leaving Middle Earth.  Before the year has ended, I will make my final voyage to the Undying Lands.  My ship is nearly completed."

I had not been expecting this, and so I felt as if I had been stricken.  But my father had his reasons for leaving, mostly that which urged him to be reunited with my mother, who had passed over the sea when I was quite young.

Before long, I found myself one night at the Passing of the Crown ritual, an ancient tradition where Sindarin Elf kings longing to leave Middle Earth, name and crown their heir.  Now it was my father's turn to hand his kingdom over.  And I…I was now king, ruling alongside my father until he left one late autumn evening.

The ritual itself was a whirlwind of events.  I spent most of the night talking with elders, ambassadors, and rulers from friendly kingdoms throughout Middle Earth.  The ceremony itself was quite lavish and held on my father's own estate.  All of our own folk from Mirkwood were there, and my heart rejoiced to see many of my childhood friends.  They were all the same as I remembered them, but I knew in talking to them that I was not.  Traveling with the Fellowship and fighting in the war had changed me.  

To my surprise, Aragorn, Arwen, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were also there, as was Gimli, who my father had only recently accepted as being one of my best friends.  My heart rejoiced the most to see all of my newest friends, for parting with them had been the most bitter, for family we had become to one another, and I felt closer to them than I had ever been with any of my other friends.  I had not expected to see them there, for tradition held that none that where not of the Firstborn should witness the ritual.  But for my friends that still lingered on these shores, my father had made the exception, not only for my happiness, but to honor them for their part in saving our world as well.

In looking back, I do not really think that the full weight of the responsibility that I now bore really hit me until after the ceremony and as it grew closer to the time when my father left.  I had the hints that the time was drawing nearer, for he grew more restless and worked harder at last minute training for my new role.  Though my training became more intense, I had been conditioned all throughout my life to take over the throne, and the slow compilation of more responsibilities was easy to adjust to.  But then, one night my father was gone on his journey and I was suddenly in sole control of the kingdom.

Suddenly, I was alone, for I saw my friends less often and I was the only one of my family still living in Middle Earth.  I found myself becoming more and more occupied with the rebuilding of Mirkwood, for the war had not left it untouched.  I worked tirelessly to cleanse it of the last remnants of the shadow of evil that had befallen it so long ago, and it was I who headed countless hunts to destroy the foul creatures of some older evil that still haunted its' woods.

But I still longed to be near the sea and I missed my friends in Gondor terribly.  I spoke of this with Aragorn in passing one time as he came to stay in my house on a matter of business and pleasure, for nearly two years had gone by since I had been crowned king and our correspondence had been reduced to letters alone for the lack of time.  

"Come and live in the borders of my lands," he urged me.  "I will set aside land in Ithilien where you may establish a new extension of your kingdom."

"No," I replied, rather regretfully, "I cannot uproot my people.  I cannot abandon Mirkwood."

"Take only those willing to go and if none feel as if they can depart from here, then do not worry about it.  You do not have to abandon the kingdom that your forefathers worked so hard in building.  My offer stands open for as long as I shall live.  Perhaps there can be great things that can be achieved from Men and Elves living together once again."

And so I had thought hard about all that my friend had said and realized that, indeed, he made a good point.  And so, I took those willing to accompany me and established an extension of my kingdom in the fair land of Ithilien.  This early colony flourished and it did wonders for me to be so close to Aragorn and the sea.  Gimli also came to live here and I rejoiced at having my two best friends so close.

For those unwilling to leave their home in Mirkwood, I kept the kingdom established there and often made the trip between both places.  At first, I had been worried that my actions might prove only to faction my people, but thankfully my fears were unfounded when my actions were met with praise rather than hostility.  As fate would later have it, it would be those still living in the woods of Mirkwood that would leave Middle Earth first, for they were the oldest among my people and had merely tired of their life on those shores. 


	2. Chapter 2

I was quite pleased at the progress that we made in Ithilien, for our new city grew quickly and adapted quite well.  Aragorn, delighted at having us so close to his own city, had been more than happy and willing to supply us with all that was needed.  And Gimli, my dear friend, he worked as tirelessly as my own people, helping to create some magnificent homes and pathways from wood and stone, though his talents shone best in his stone-craft.  For my own part, I cast aside both crown and finery and worked alongside my kin and friends, for Aragorn, Gimli, and Faramir all toiled in the building of my kingdom's extension.

I relished the help and it did my heart a world of good to do psychical labor.  I was happy again for a while, for I was loathe to be waited on hand and foot.  Doing everyday tasks alongside of ordinary folk (and seeing Aragorn doing the same) relieved some of the desire I had had to recapture the past, for part of me longed to go back to the days of our travels, for the sheer fact that I was free to wander and free from the pressures of ruling.  Not that I felt overwhelmed, for little ever happened within Mirkwood or with our allies.  But I missed the adventure of the past.  Surely I did not wish for a threat such as Sauron to arise, but now that there was little to do, a part of me seemed to die.  For I was a warrior as well as a king, and though I loved peace and tranquility, the Sea-Longing and a wanderlust still burned within my heart, for the orcs and urak-hai had been disposed of and not a single one, if any still did live, had been seen since only a few months after the war was over.

The only adventure left to me, it seemed, would be to get the new colony functioning and running smoothly with the help of my friends.  I was quite mistaken, for I remember one rainy summer afternoon.  I was working with Gimli and Aragorn on a few projects, cutting wood and taking measurements for one of the last buildings left to be built; the estate which I would reside in during my times in Ithilien.  I purposely did not call it a palace, for that had too regal an air, and though I was king, it still did not sit well with me.  Faramir was not with us that afternoon, for he had been feeling ill and had stayed home to rest that day.  But the three of us worked all through the rain, just to feel it on us as we worked.  We laughed and sang, trading stories and talking of the past, drenched and dirty as we were from our work.  But we were in such high spirits, and silently, I noted to myself that it had been long since I had been this happy.

I suppose we must have made quite a sight, a dwarf and two kings, acting in such an outlandish, unconventional manner.  Thunder rumbled in the distance, but we took no heed, being far too involved with what we were doing, and that ranged from anything from work to play.  Aragorn had hoisted up a plank of wood that was ready to be cut and shaped, but as he came forward, he slipped in the mud and fell.  I had offered my hand to him to help him up, and he gratefully accepted.  But at the last moment, a sly, mischievous glint came into his eye, and he pulled me down into the mud beside him.  He laughed triumphantly and I could not help but to shake my head and laugh as well.  I patted a muddy hand on his shoulder.

"You have gotten me well, my friend," I said.

"Well, it took some time, but I knew I'd see the day when you would be covered in dirt," he joked back.

For long had we held a joke between us, ever since our days as the Fellowship, for while Men toiled and fought and got rather dirty, I could work just as hard while remaining relatively clean.

It was at this time as we sat laughing, the mud dripping from our hair, that I caught sight of a beautiful Elven maiden.  Her hair was golden as the sun, her eyes as green as fine cut emeralds.  She was walking with the Lady Arwen and was carrying a wicker basket filled with food.  A dress of palest blue clung wetly to her slender form.

I did not right away recognize her, for she was new to the community, having only arrived the day before.  She was a Lorien Elf, one of the few who did not leave Middle Earth right away once the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel parted for Valinor.  Her name was Elen, youngest sister of Haldir, my friend of old.  I had known her when we were but children, but we had not seen one another in nearly 1700 years, for the fates had seen to it that many circumstances had arisen that had prevented a more recent meeting. 

I could see her holding back a laugh as Aragorn and I teamed up against Gimli, who landed in the overly wet mud with a satisfying splash.  Arwen was openly laughing at our behavior.

"My lords," Elen said, once we had calmed down a bit, "I have brought you this food."

"Thank you," I said, wiping mud from my face and splashing it with clean water from a nearby fountain, "we greatly appreciate that."  I looked at her once again, for something in the back of my mind told me that I knew her.  "You are new to the community, are you not?"

"Yes, I arrived yesterday afternoon from Lothlorien."

"You look so familiar," I said, hesitantly.  "Do I know you from someplace?"

She smiled, as if she knew the answer to some riddle.  "Can it be that you have forgotten me, cuar?" she asked, calling me archer, a nickname she'd always teased me with since I had been young and had pretended to be a skilled archer in the days before my warrior training.

Immediately I knew who she was.  "Elen!" I cried, "it has been too long!  Come, sit and talk with us," I offered, as I gestured to come inside the half finished building, to get out of the rain.

All that afternoon I spoke with her, and Aragorn was kind enough to let her accompany us back to his own palace that night when we had finished our work.  We spoke throughout the night, catching up on far too many years that had seen us apart.  And when we did part for the night to take a little sleep, I knew that I was in love with her.  As an elfling, I had always felt connected to her in a way that I never understood.  But I was promised to another, who died a few years before the One Ring had been discovered in the Shire and Elrond had called his council.  It happened during an orc attack against Rivendell, where she had been headed, being a friend of Arwen.  I grieved for a while, but there was always that guilty part of me that knew I did not care for her in the same way that I had always cared about Elen.

In all events, work progressed in my new kingdom, and all too soon it was completed.  I hosted an official opening to our new home and it was there that I asked Elen to be my wife, for I had finally found the one thing that was missing from my life: her.  The kingdom rejoiced at the announcement that Elen would soon be their queen.  The wedding ceremony itself was held in Mirkwood, for that was my true home.  The elders of my kingdom oversaw our union as we took our vows and gave us their blessings.  

I was able to embark on the greatest journey of my life and I was never happier.  But where that journey was to lead me, I could never have guessed.


	3. Chapter 3

Elen and I often made the trip between the segments of our kingdom, staying for a season in one place before going back to the other.  But as time went by, more of our people began to leave Middle Earth for Valinor, and we went back to Mirkwood less and less often, for it was there that our people first began to leave.  But the time spent traveling mattered not to me, for I was happy because the void in my life and heart had been filled by Elen.  For the first time in all of my long years, I truly felt complete.

Yet this feeling of completeness did not last, for all too soon I realized that something else was missing from my life.  Often, I would find myself stopping to play and talk with some of the young elflings in the kingdom as I walked along.  I knew what it was that I was missing.  Deep down inside, there was one adventure yet left to me.  I needed to be a father and have children of my own to love and cherish.  It was not as if Elen and I had been avoiding such a role, but until that point there had been too much to do in terms of getting the kingdom through a few rough patches.  But now that we had found a suitable balance to keep both segments of the kingdom on, we finally found that we were able to fully recognize our desire to be parents.

It did not take long before Elen was pregnant with our first child.  The kingdom rejoiced at the news of their expectant queen and the prince or princess that soon would be born.  If Elen beamed with pride and love for the unborn child, than I did moreso in some ways.  

It was during one of our stays in Mirkwood when our daughter Anoron, was born.  Her name meant "dawn" for it was at the very breaking of the day when she came into this world.  She was perfect in everyway and from the moment I first held her in my arms, I knew that she had me wrapped around her little finger.  Truly she was a beautiful child, golden hair lighter than my own, eyes as green as a sunlit forest glade.  She was, however, a tiny child, and I knew that she would grow to be on the smaller side, but her beauty would make up for all deficit.  In that regard, she truly was her mother's daughter.  But it was I that spoiled her.

The change that my life now underwent was incredible, for I found myself spending less time thinking about matters of the kingdom, but more centered around thoughts of my beautiful Anoron.  Not that there was much for me to be doing within the kingdom anyway.  Times were good, for peace reigned and our kingdom was prosperous.  Our newly forged alliance with the Dwarves, especially with Gimli's own people had helped both my kingdom as well as Aragorn's, for few enemies would have dared to risk a confrontation that would promise the battle skills of Men, Elves, and Dwarves.

Time passed by quickly, too quickly and soon my darling little daughter was walking and talking.  She grew quickly, turning from a giggling baby to a smiling toddler to a confident twelve year old child.  As for myself, I began to work on documents and other affairs at night after she had gone to sleep.  There was not much to be done more often than not, and so it was quite feasible to put most of the business aspects of my daily life to one side, thereby clearing my days to spend playing with Anoron.  During these times of play, I would often catch glimpses of my wife and I in her.  She was sensitive and loving to all animals, great and small, and somehow managed to tame a small wolf cub on one trip out to Mirkwood, for I wanted her to see the place where I had grown up.  While this love of animals was certainly a trait of all Elves, I could not help but see a striking resemblance to Elen in Anoron.  And yet, my daughter was adventurous and quite a little troublemaker with her friends sometimes, which I was always secretly pleased with because it reminded me so much of the way I was when I was her age.  Once or twice, I even caught her sparring with Naropi, a young boy her own age, with crudely fashioned, hand made swords that the two had made!

And so the years passed happily for myself and my family, and before long, Elen was expecting our second child.  This time, the baby was born right at our home in Ithilien.  It was a boy, a son whom I named Aragorn, for so much brotherhood I felt with that man.  This tiny Aragorn bore more psychical resemblance to me than did Anoron, for his hair was the dark shade of blonde that was mine, though his eyes were that of a steely gray.  He had a defiant look to him, as if he were ready to take on the world as early as birth, but when he smiled, it was like pure sunshine.  

Anoron was fifteen when Aragorn came into out family, and was thrilled to have a younger brother to help care for.  She became rather protective of him from the moment he was born, a fierce love bond I had only seen once before, that which had existed between Haldir and Elen growing up.  I was proud of both of my children, a doting and boastful father if ever one lived.  And I was happy, so incredibly happy with my life, that for a while I forgot the sea altogether.  Nothing could ever go wrong again, I mused to myself on more than one occasion, for the Sea-longing was temporarily vanquished and the scars upon my heart from fighting in the great war had finally begun to completely heal.      


	4. Chapter 4

It was two months after my son's birth that I was called away from my home into the city of Gondor.  Aragorn had recently received threats against his kingdom from an unfriendly territory in the south.  It was a rather petty matter that the southern territory was upset over, but the threat to Gondor was still very real.  I had been summoned to offer my advice in a few matters, for Aragorn too had a new son to love, whom he and Arwen had named Eldarion.

I remember well that day, the crisp cool air of the fall, a cloudless blue sky above.  I headed out early to meet Aragorn at his palace, riding on Firebrand, son of Arod.  He was a roan colored stallion and my favorite since his father Arod had passed away.   I arrived at Aragorn's palace not long before the noon hour.  I found Aragorn sitting with Gimli, Faramir, and a another whom I did not know.  They were all in the room that Aragorn often used as an informal meeting room.  The Lady Arwen was no where to be seen, for she had her time filled caring for Eldarion.

For many hours we sat in quiet discussion and debate, striving to resolve the conflict between the two kingdoms.  At last, we were able to find a compromise, though it took us until late into the afternoon and the sun had dropped low on the horizon.  We supped together that night, fixing a few of the small details of a secondary plan which would reopen long abandoned trade relations between the kingdoms.  Aragorn graciously offered us all lodging for the night, which only Gimli and myself accepted, for the man from the south had need of haste, as he was to report back to his ailing father, the lord of the southern kingdom.  As for Faramir, he was to visit another friend within the city of Gondor and it was there that he would be staying.

We spent a pleasant night together, Aragorn, Gimli, and myself, staying awake and talking well into the night.  For though we all now lived within the borders of Gondor, each of us had been quite busy with our own affairs, and it had been since my own son Aragorn's birth that we had last seen one another.

The following day dawned much the same as the previous one, though now puffy white clouds dotted that overhead sea of blue.  It was, perhaps, a little cooler than it had been the day before, but it was still perfect weather for taking a leisurely ride back to my own estate.  I bade farewell to my friends after we had eaten lunch.  Now and again I would let Firebrand race, giving him free reins, for his name was no accident and he could outrun many of Rohan's finest horses.  Finally, as the sun began to set in the west, a fire was put into my heart and I longed to be with my family, my loving wife and the children I loved more than life itself.  I gave Firebrand free reins once more, and he bore me away to my home, quick as the wind.

Little did I know how my world was about to be broken.

Firebrand slowed as we entered the main gate of my estate.  I dismounted and let the horse wander freely, for I could sense that something was very wrong.  Now I saw the front door hanging from one hinge; the shining white wood broken and splintered.  Cautiously, I pushed the door fully open.  The hinges moaned in protest, low and ominously, and then the door completed its' journey to meet the earth.  I paid no heed and walked inside.

Large west facing windows allowed the golden sunlight of the late afternoon flood into the rooms, illuminating the chaos that was once the home I had loved.  There was nothing in that main room.  No sound was to be heard, save for the wind rifling through a few documents I had been working on only a few days prior.  For they were no longer stacked neatly on the corner table where I had left them; now they were scattered over the floors and furniture.

"Elen?" I called out, but there was no returning answer.  "Elen?"

I picked my way through the scattered objects littering the floor, moving from room to room.  There was nothing to be seen and a fear grew in my heart.  Then I came to my children's play room.  The first thing that I noticed was blood, a stark contrast of harsh red against the subdued white of the walls and blonde wood of the floor.  The blood was everywhere and in the corner, I could see the remains of my family.  I went numb and it was at least ten minutes before I felt myself moving, some unconscious effort that forced my legs to close the distance between us.  All three were dead, murdered where they had once stood.

I sank to my knees and pleaded to the Valar that they could not be dead, that they could not have been taken away from me.  I hugged the torn bodies to me while I cried.  It was the first time that I had cried since my mother had parted for Valinor when I was but twelve years of age.

_No parent should ever have to bury their child._

The phrase that I had heard so often in the great war kept coming back to ring inside my head.  For so many had seen their children die, and now, now it was my turn to bury my children – and my wife.  Or, at least, I knew that I should.  But part of me could not do it.

I do not know still unto this very day what it was that kept my from burying them.  I do not know whether it was the shock, or my broken emotions, or whether there was some other force that told me not to bury them.  And so I did not.  I merely stayed with them for a while, cursing the fate that had caused me such pain, cursing those unknown individuals that had murdered my family, and cursing myself for not have being there to protect them.

I just stayed, rooted to the spot, talking to them with unchecked tears streaming from my eyes.

After a while, I once again looked down at their wounds.  Daggers, it seemed, had been the weapon of the assailants, judging from the slashes and precision wounds my family bore.  The blood covering them was dry, indicating that it had most likely been at least a day since they had died.  Each of them had had their throats slashed, after multiple stabbings had been dealt to subdue them.

That was all I could force myself to discover about my family's fate before my brain cried out to me to get out of the house.  I could no longer stay there.  I needed to get away, though I knew not where I would go.  I left my home that night, taking only what I had on me and I mounted Firebrand, blindly let him carry me away from that place.  For home it no longer was that I left behind, only the shell of a building that now housed horror instead of joy. 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry for the really long update.  I really do apologize.  It's just that now that I'm a college graduate and living at home again, it's hard to find some time to get on the computer to write without having to be on the constant job search.  And lately when I have written, it's been for my other work in progress (which the story sorta ran away with me) entitled _A King's Ransom._  Oh yeah, that and I lost some work on this that I liked in a major computer crash around Thanksgiving, but this is really the first chance that I've had to rewrite it all.  So, if you haven't given up on me, thank you so much!  (hands out gold Legolas star stickers to everyone)  And oh yeah, I'm not Tolkien.

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I rode Firebrand hard that night, never stopping to look back and never stopping to decide where to go to.  Instead, I gave him free reins, trusting him to bear me far from the horrors that I had seen.  It was a dark night, the timid stars hiding behind thick, protective clouds, as though they were ashamed at the very sight of me.  The air began to smell of an oncoming rain, for it seemed as if the very heavens would shed tears for my family.

I do not know what it was that guided Firebrand that night.  Perhaps it was the familiarity of the road, perhaps it was fate, but long after the storm had broken, I found myself within the city of Minas Tirith.  It was here that I finally took up the reins once more, as we passed the city gate, and I nodded absently at the guards standing by, for they knew me well and did not have to question my presence.  Suddenly feeling the bite of the cold wind, I guided Firebrand to one of the taverns that I knew well and had sometimes come to sit and pass a few hours with Faramir, Gimli, and Aragorn.  After bringing the horse to the attached stable, I headed into the bar.  Smoke from pipes hung thickly in the air at the far end of the bar, but it was warm inside so I pressed on.  There was a mid-sized crowd that night, as was normal for _The Soaring Eagle._

Dripping water from my robes and hair, I took a seat at the bar and placed my order with Regond, the owner.  Soon he came back bearing my requested drink.  The liquid was potent and went down like melted fire, warming my insides, though outwardly, I still felt cold.  Regond looked me over and, noting my drenched state, suggested that I move closer to the fire that he kept burning brightly in the hearth at the far end of the room.  I shook my head, wet locks of hair clinging to my face and neck.  I downed the rest of the drink in a single great swallow, though I knew how utterly ungraceful it must have appeared.  At this, Regond scrunched up his brow, deciding that something was amiss.  But he said nothing for the moment and merely took up my glass to silently refill it.  This patter continued for the next ten or fifteen minutes until at last, I could see that he could no longer sit idly by.

Putting a fresh glass before me, a line of concern passed over his face.  "Are you alright, Master Legolas?"

"I do not wish to speak about it," I replied, staring blankly down at the glossy surface of the highly polished bar.  Never before had I spoken of my troubles and feelings to a human, save for Aragorn, and I certainly did not want to start now.

"Alright!" he said.  "I meant no offense by it."

Then he turned from me to service another customer whose mug of mead had become empty.  And so the rest of the night wore on slowly.  Customers came into the tavern and left, though more exited than were replaced.  No one approached me and I knew why.  For even though I was a friend to their king, I was still an elf, a creature unlike them and to be feared to some extent.  These people did not know me that well, though I knew many of the men living in Gondor, and though I lived within the borders of their kingdom.  Men and Elves may have been living in peaceful co-existence, but still the two races stuck mainly to their own kin.  It was a problem that Aragorn and I had been working hard to correct.  Even so, it was thus that I was to pass the time alone and undisturbed with my troubled thoughts.

It was an hour or two before the cold dark hour of midnight when I heard the familiar tramping of heavy boots upon the solid wood of the floor.  From behind me they came, accompanied with a deep, throaty laughter and salutations to Regond.  They were the kind that only a dwarf would use.  Fate, it seemed, had more in store for me, though at the moment, I cursed it, for I did not wish to see anyone, only to forget.  I slumped my shoulders forward and forced myself to stare down once again, sipping another round of the potent wine.  With any luck, Gimli would bypass me without noticing who I was.

"Ah Legolas!  Still in the city, eh?  I guess you changed your mind and decided to stay on for the night.  But you should have told me you were coming here.  I would have arranged to meet you earlier," he cried out joyfully.

I did not turn around.

"Hello?  What's this?  Can't even turn around to greet a friend?" he asked, with the slightest hint of teasing tainting the edges of his words.

Still I said nothing, hoping that he would just leave me be, or think that perhaps he had mistaken my identity for someone else from the back, for he was the last person that I wanted to see.  True, he was my best friend, but some pearl of elvish pride did not wish to see me break emotionally before the eyes and ears of a dwarf, friend or no.  But elvish pride held no sway over Gimli and he climbed into the bar stool next to me, just as Regond came with his usual mug of beer.  Gimli took it up and tasted the contents before turning again to me.

A rough hand was placed lightly on my shoulder.  "Legolas?"

"Please Gimli, leave me be," I asked.

"What is wrong, my friend?  Perhaps I can help you," he pleaded, as his eyes took in my disheveled state of appearance.

"Not this time, Gimli," I replied and drained my cup.  "No one can help me."

I stood to leave and placed money for Regond upon the bar.  At this, Gimli knew my intentions and jumped from his seat, placing himself between myself and the exit.  There he stood defiantly, his legs spread slightly apart, challenging me to try and get passed him, though he knew that I could do so easily if I so wished.  And yet, I did not even attempt to, for I suddenly felt very tired.  I sighed and slumped my shoulders in defeat.

"Please," he tried pleading with me again, "tell me what troubles you so."

I said nothing, but motioned for him to follow me.  He nodded in understanding and I turned on my heel and walked to the seats nearest to the fire.  For it was here that we could be farthest from the half dozen or so other patrons.  Here I sat, Gimli across from me, in thick, oversized chairs covered with leather hides.  Gimli gave a signal to Regond that we were not to be disturbed.

"Now then Master Elf," Gimli said, settling down into his seat, "let us have it or I shall be forced to drag it out of you."

I smiled slightly in spite of myself at his attempt to lighten the mood.  He was doing his best, I could tell, and that could not have been easy for him, for I knew that he'd never seen me in such a somber mood.

"Have you ever bore witness to something that made you stop and reevaluate your life and worth?  Something so overwhelming that the image burns itself into your memory with such force and clarity that it threatens to drive you mad?" I began, choosing my words carefully.

"What are you getting at?  What did you see?"

"Death," I said quietly.

"Death?  Whose?" he asked.  "Someone in Gondor?"

"My family's," I all but whispered.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Gimli sat there for several moments looking at me in disbelief.  For my part, I could not long hold his gaze and turned my head so that I faced the fire.  I sat there staring at the dancing flames as if they had suddenly become the most interesting things in all of Middle Earth.  At length, Gimli spoke.

"Legolas, I am so sorry.  I can't believe that they are dead."

"Nor I.  But I swear, I will not rest until I find the murderers who stole my family from me, though there are few clues to their identity."

"Then we must go to Aragorn at once and inform him.  He may be able to find some clues to bring their assailants to justice."

I nodded.  "Perhaps you are right, Gimli.  Aragorn may yet offer some hope.  But the hour is growing late."

"Never mind the hour.  I trust you have some steed with you.  Get him from the stables and leave the talking to me when we get to the palace."

I could not help but smile inwardly at my friend, for I could see in his eyes that my battle was now his own.  It was somewhat comforting, knowing that I was not alone; that I had such a friend who would stand by me in my greatest hour of need.  With these thoughts, I turned and headed back out of the tavern.  The rain had stopped, but a heavy fog hung over the land.  But Firebrand knew the way to the palace as soon he was taking Gimli and I by the fastest route.  It was not long before we came to the front gate to the palace where Aragorn and his family now lived.  Farnwor was the name man standing guard.  He knew Gimli and I well and let us past with no questions, though the night was growing old.

Oddly enough, we found Aragorn standing outside of the palace in the courtyard.  He was off to the left side, staring down into the fog that covered the city.  As we came closer, Gimli greeted him and he turned to face us.  As he came closer we could see that he, though he was confused to see us there, was glad to see the two of us.  But soon his expression changed, as he let his eyes take in the sight of us, especially me.

"Please, come inside.  The night is chill and you look in need of a warm fire."

"More than that I'm afraid," Gimli mumbled, but he turned and followed Aragorn in side, and I trailed them both. 

Together we walked in silence to the informal meeting room that Aragorn enjoyed holding conversations in, for it was richly furnished and was one of the more comfortable places to hold counsel in.  Here he stoked the fire for both warmth and light by which to see.  He motioned for us to sit and we took our places on large overly plush chairs.

After throwing a few more pieces of wood into the flickering flames, Aragorn sat, his face grim.  

"We are sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Aragorn," I began but he shook his head.

"No apology needed, my friend.  I can tell by looking at you that something is amiss.  Tell me, what is it that presses so hard upon you?"

I drew a deep breath before speaking.  It had been hard telling Gimli of my family's death; speaking those vile words aloud.  Now I had to do it all over again.  I cleared my throat, the images of my murdered family flashing before my eyes.

"Aragorn, I do not know how I should say this to you, for the very thought sickens my heart and soul.  When I returned to my home from taking counsel with you about the kingdom to the south, I found my house in a state of disarray.  But that is not why I am here.  I come because…because…," the words began to stick in my throat and I all but forced myself to continue, "I found my family all laying murdered where they had once stood.  They are dead, Aragorn, Elen and Anoron, and little Aragorn."

To this Aragorn made no quick reply, but looked instead as if I had told him that the Dark Lord had suddenly made a reappearance in Middle Earth.

"By the Valar!  I am so sorry, my friend," he stammered once he found his voice again.  "Is there anything that I might do to help you?"

"That is why I have come," I answered.  "I had hoped you might be able to find such clues as you can to bring justice to their murderers."

"Of course," he replied immediately, he said as he put a protective, firm hand on my shoulder.  "Do you think you can tell me more of what you saw?"

I nodded, forcing down the lump that had risen in my throat and fighting back the well of tears that threatened to break through.  Once I had regained what composure I could, I began to tell him about all that I had seen, from the broken front door to the puncture wounds to the gashes across each of their fair necks.  I told him of not being able to bring myself to burying them and of being born by chance to Minas Tirith and of meeting up with Gimli.  By the end, the dam I had fought so hard to build before my eyes burst and the tears rolled down my cheeks unchecked.

When my story was complete, Aragorn looked thoughtful and sat silently by my side, his arm around me much as a father might do to a dejected child. 

"Tomorrow we will ride out to your estate," he said softly, "and see what we may find.  Rest now, for you have had a hard day and trust that they are comfortable in the halls of your ancestors."

Too weary in both body and mind, I could not help but to comply with his instructions and soon the blissful world of sleep took me.


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I apologize for the long update periods.  I'm working two jobs now and it's hard for me to find time to sit and write, which I hate because I'm enjoying writing these stories for you, my dear readers.  (I've got at least another 2 LOTR fan fiction ideas brewing in my mind after I finish this one)  Also, I don't get a lot of computer time since I am back home with my family (college graduate here), but with both jobs, I'm hoping to buy a laptop, but we'll see on that.  As always, I am not the great genius of J.R.R. Tolkien.  I'm just a fan taking his characters out for a spin.   So, without further ado, to celebrate The Return of The King's 11 Oscars wins lat night (and the A that I got on my senior honor's thesis), I give you a new chapter!

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When the hateful morning came, Aragorn, Gimli, and myself took to our horses and made our somber way back out to my estate.  We rode in utter silence, none of us willing to speak first and break the sheltered quiet of the world.  Instead, we left that task to the birds, who sang merrily in the trees, unaware of the pain and heartache I suffered from.  We rode this way until we reached the main gate of my estate, where we dismounted and tethered our horses, so that they might graze upon the fading grasses.  Here I breathed a great sigh and began to recount all that I had done the previous day, taking care to point out exactly where I had stood and what I had touched.  The broken door still lay upon the dewy earth and the darkness of the rooms beyond where it had once stood yawned in the early hours, dark and foreboding.  But, for the time being, Aragorn ignored it.  Instead, he began to scout the ground for clues, stooping low to the ground and examining every bent blade of grass that looked as if it might shed some light on this mystery.  In this fashion, he scouted the entire lawn, the yard in which I had once played with my children.

"There are prints here," he said at last, puncturing the heavy silence.  "When was it last that any man came to your estate?"

"The most recent visitor was your messenger the other day," I replied, eying the tracks, "but he came in by way of the front."

We were to the left of the house by the low wooden fence that surrounded my property.  Faramir and Eowyn had helped me to put it into place long before, when I had first learnt that Anoron was on her way.  It was a way that I could protect my baby, keeping her confined in the yard so that I could keep an eye on her.  Now we followed the prints around the corner of my house, for they seemed to make for the front door, though we could not say that with certainty, as the prints left the coverage of the overhanging tree limbs and had been largely lost to the rain the night before.

"Who ever it was hopped the fence and crept around for fear of your servants," Gimli said, as Aragorn stood.

"Gimli is right.  Where were your attendants that night?"

"I had given them the week off to be with their families, for this is a celebratory week for us, a holiday if you will.  We have had an exceptional harvest this year, and so it is a week of festivals in every home.  It is a time when families gather to be thankful.  Elen and I had decided that we could not, in good faith, keep any attendant from being with his or her family.  We never have, but have always given everyone the week off.  We never thought anything about it.  But this year, it seems my judgment failed me, and in turn, I failed my family," I said, the tears beginning to well up in my eyes once again.

"No, my friend, you did not fail in any way.  There was no way that you could have known," Aragorn replied, trying to reassure me.  "This is not your fault."

I nodded outwardly, but inwardly, I could not believe his words, though I knew them to be true.  Instead, I turned my thoughts to other things, for I dared not voice my opinions to my friends.  They would not understand the guilt that I felt.  And so I kept quiet for the moment.

"Who do you think made the tracks?" Gimli asked.

"Judging from the size of them, I would say that they were not adults, but perhaps boys of maybe fifteen or sixteen years of age," said Aragorn.  As he spoke, he took up a few wayward sticks and broke off the ends until they were the same length as the prints.  "There were two of them, from the looks of it.  Last night's rain washed away any distinguishing marks though.  I dearly wish they were fresher."  He spoke now in a low voice, as if he were addressing only himself.  In truth, I sometimes wondered myself when he spoke thusly while on a trail.

Now we ventured to the main door of the house, which Aragorn examined with great care, for unlike the footprints, the clues left behind were still fresh and could not be washed away by the rain.  He fingered the splintered wood carefully, turning his head this way and that to examine the gashes upon the wood.

"Who ever it was used knives of some sort to pry the door open, away from the hinges.  Look here, you can see the scratches in the wood.  They are small in places, which leads me to believe that daggers were used, perhaps the same that you think were used on your family," he said, turning to me.  "Come, Gimli, let us gather such clues as we can inside.  Legolas, I will not force you to accompany us if you feel you cannot."

"No," I replied, shaking my head, "I will come.  I must be strong for my family's sake, so that their murderers may be brought to justice."

Gimli nodded his understanding and Aragorn squeezed my shoulder in a reassuring manner.  Then we turned and entered the house.  But we had not gotten far inside when Aragorn dropped to his knees once more, for the remnants of dirt tracks could be seen on the floor.  In my panicked state on the previous day, I had neglected to pay them any mind, but now I looked at them with renewed interest.

"These boot tracks are odd," Aragorn commented.  "Not many would have treads in such a pattern."

"Aye," agreed Gimli.  "I will say that they are odd.  See here.  Here is the dwarven rune for D and here is that of B."  He traced the runes with his finger just inches from the dry mud.

"That must be Darius the Boot maker," I said.  "I know him well.  He takes such pride in his craftsmanship that he leaves his mark upon every pair of shoes or boots that he produces.  But why dwarven runes, I wonder.  He is no dwarf but a man of Gondor."

"I think you may be right, Legolas.  Darius does tend to leave a distinguishing mark on his footwear.  But as for your question, I think I may know the answer.  Darius is a man skilled in the letters of many a language, but primarily the dwarven runes.  His father is one of the city's record keepers and therefore knows all of Middle Earth's main tongues.  Darius himself would have been taught by his father, but in speaking to him on several occasions, it seems that Darius was best able to grasp the letters of the dwarves," agreed Gimli.

Aragorn nodded.  "Gimli is right.  But see here too, we are in luck.  These tracks were made by new boots, for the runes are sharp and easily read.  We shall question Darius about his latest sales upon our return to Minas Tirith.  Now, let us see your family."

I nodded.  "This way.  I found them in the play room."

I lead them down the hall and to the blood splattered room where I had found the remains of Elen, Anoron, and Aragorn on the previous day.  Here I stopped, and let Aragorn and Gimli through first, for I was in no great hurry to relive the horrors I had seen.  But still, once they were in, I forced myself to come up behind them in the room.  Here they gasped and I felt the same sickness rise in me that had washed over me the first time.

"By the Valar!" Aragorn exclaimed as he looked upon the carnage.

"I'm gonna kill whoever it was that did this!" Gimli exclaimed angrily.  

"Legolas, I…" Aragorn stared to say, though it was obvious that he was at a loss for words.

I waved my hand and shook my head.  "I know."

Aragorn nodded and took a moment before he knelt down next to Elen and began to inspect her wounds.  The blood upon her body had dried and caked, but he wiped it away with the edge of a blanket that was lying nearby.  With gentle hands he checked every wound, as though she were merely sleeping and not dead, and my grief-filled heart filled with love for the old ranger for his loving nature.

Now he inspected the wounds that my children bore.  I could see him shake his head every now and again in disbelief.  At length, he turned to me with a soft sigh.

"Your thoughts were right, Legolas. Whoever did this stabbed them first before slitting their throats, though the stab wounds look rather rashly dealt.  It seems to me that the boys that are responsible for this were not experienced in using weapons.  See here, there were plenty of opportunities to subdue them more effectively.  But these wounds, they are out of place.  Other than to cause pain, these wounds would have done very little.  An experienced person would have been much more careful."

"Can you track the daggers?" I asked.

"I'm afraid not.  But there are few in Gondor who produce weapons outside of the royal armory.  It should not take us long before we are able to track down the recent purchases."

I nodded and cleared a lump from my throat.  "I must bury them first."

"Of course," Aragorn replied.

"There is a hilltop not far from here," I said.  "Elen loved it there.  She thought it offered the most beautiful view of our kingdom.  I will bury them there.  I think she would have liked that."

I could see the others nod.  I turned on my heel, away from the bloody room, and made my way back out towards the entrance.  Once outside, I forced myself to walk towards the garden, where I took up a shovel before mounting Arod for the brief journey to the burial site.  Behind me, my friends followed silently, mournfully, but I shook my head.

"Go to Targone," I said.  "Tell him I will need three of his finest coffins and a stone to mark the burial site.  Bid him to come quickly to the graves.  He will be paid well for his haste."  With that I left them to seek Targone the Elf, a master woodworker, who also could work splendor into stone.

It was not long before I reached the spot where my family would rest.  Here I dug three graves all in a line at the top of the hill and beneath the strong, protective boughs of an evergreen tree.  By the end, I was tired and dirty, but I cared not for my appearance and I headed for him such as I was.  When I arrived, Targone and several of his workers were just arriving with my requests.  To them I gave directions to where they should make their delivery before heading inside to prepare for their funeral.   

I stripped off my dirt caked clothing and put on fresh garments before doing the same for my family, dressing them in clean clothing and throwing the blood stained ones into a fire that I built in the main hearth.  Then, one by one, I took them with me upon Arod and brought them to the hilltop, tears never drying on my cheeks.  Here I buried them, committing each to the wooden caskets in turn and then raising a burial mound above them.  The golden sunlight began to falter by then, the shadows lengthening.  It was nearly night when I at last drove the headstone into the ground and said my final farewells, with only Gimli and Aragorn by my side.   


	8. Chapter 8

The remainder of that week was, and remains, mostly a blur for me.  I remember returning to Gondor that night, though it was late when we reached the city gates.  And it was in Gondor that I stayed for some time before I could allow myself to return home, broken as it was.  My attendants returned to care for my estate, but I bid them to clean the blood from play room without touching the scattered toys of my children.  I wanted it to remain as normal as possible, but I did not have the heart to right away return to it.

In all events, the week progressed and together, Aragorn, Gimli, and myself followed what leads we had to tracking down the boys who had murdered my family.  For us, it became much more than a task, but an obsession.  And day by day, we came closer to finding them.  Our leads concerning the daggers turned out to be dead-ended, for the handful of knife shops in the city had recently sold hunting daggers that would have been too large to make the small wounds my family had borne.  On this, there is no denying that we felt disappointed and slightly discouraged.  But luckily, for us, we still had our lead with Darius the Bootmaker.  

It was a cool, windy day when we entered his shop, the overwhelming smell of new leather assaulting our senses.  Gimli and I hung back slightly, allowing Aragorn to do the talking.  Darius was nowhere in sight, so I rung the small silver bell on the counter.  A few moments passed before Darius emerged from the back, holding a new pair of hunting boots in his hands, but not before he called out from behind the thick red curtains.  

"Just a moment if you please!  I have your order in hand, I just need to put a few more stitches in the right one.  I'll be right with you Master Elkton."

When he finally did emerge, I gave him a look over.  He was a short, portly man with thick black hair and a pleasant face who wheezed slightly when he spoke.  At seeing us, especially Aragorn, he dropped the boots on a low table behind the counter and bowed, apologizing as he did so.  

"Begging your pardon my lord.  I mistook you for Master Elkton.  He was to come by and pick up his boots this afternoon, so when you rang, I thought you were him.  A thousand apologies."

Aragorn shook his head.  "It's quite alright Darius."

"Is there something I can do for you?  A new pair of boots perhaps?  Ah, but I have no such leather as worthy for royal feet.  Give me but three more days and I will have such leather as would be fit for you."

Aragorn smiled.  "That is a kind offer, but I am afraid that is not what we have come here for.  We come seeking information."

"Ah," Darius said.  "Let me just close shop for a bit, so we are not interrupted."

He went to make for the door, but I just waved for him to stay.  I crossed the creaking wooden floor to the door and drew the bolt into the lock after flipping the small window sign to the "closed" side.  Now we all sat on chairs that Darius drew out from his back workshop.  They were old looking and badly worn in places, but they were clean and we gladly took a seat.  Aragorn sat forward a little, as if he were sharing a secret with Darius and from the small pouch that hung at his side, he produced the measuring sticks he'd made at my estate.  But these he did not right away address, but placed them on a small, round top table in the center of our chairs.

"Darius, there is information that we are in desperate need of.  There has been a terrible crime committed in the kingdom, and I believe that you may hold the key to solving the mystery behind who committed it," Aragorn began.

"Surely, my lord, you do not think I had anything to do with it!"

"No, of course not.  But I think that you may know who was involved, whether or not you realize it.  I need to know all of your most recent sales, from say, the last two weeks or so."

Darius thought for a moment.  "I have sold many pairs of boots to the men of the city.  It would take a while for me to make you up a list."

"These would not have been for men," I said, speaking up for the first time.  "Have you sold any to boys lately?"

"These sticks mark the length of the boot tracks we found at the crime site," Aragorn said, handing the two over.

These Darius studied for several long moments, occasionally looking up to the ceiling, as if in thought.  Once or twice he closed his eyes, scrunching up his brow, with mummers of the fact that he was trying to visualize all those who he'd made a sale to.  At length, he opened his eyes again.

"I have not sold boots this size in a long while," he said at last.

Panic rose within me, as I saw the last of our leads slipping away, like sand in an hourglass.

"But there were two pairs that I had stolen from my shop last week," Darius continued at last.  "Two young boys came in.  The shop was busy, as there were a group of Lord Legolas' people here, all wanting to buy new boots.  The boys came in then, and as I was busy, they made off with a pair of boots each."

"Were they this size, do you think?" Gimli asked.

"I would say so, yes," Darius said, nodding his head.  You see those shelves over against the walls?  I keep my boots lined up by size and make, so as to make things easy for my customers when they come in.  The stolen boots were kept over there, being just one size in difference."  He pointed out to two empty spaces on the shabby wooden shelves.  "So yes, I would venture to say that they were about the size that you are looking for.  In fact, I was about to make new pairs to fill in those spaces tonight.  My shop has been rather busy this past week."

"Do you know the names of the boys?  Were they familiar to you?"  Aragorn asked.

Darius nodded.  "They were two brothers…Tenoan and Eleros by name.  Their father was one of your guards, I believe, but he died last year.  Now just the mother raises them."

"Tenoan and Eleros.  Their father was Anteron," Aragorn said, thinking aloud it seemed.  "They live not far from here, I believe."

"Three alleyways down and to the left," Darius said.  "I know the family, and I know that they've fallen on hard times since Anteron's death.  That's why I never bothered chasing them down for payment for the boots."

A sudden knock at the door broke the somber mood of the discussion.  Darius peered around Aragorn to see Elkton standing just outside of the window.  Aragorn stood, with Gimli and myself following his lead.

"Please, go and reopen your shop.  You have given us priceless information and I thank you," he said.

"I hope the boys have not gone and got themselves into too much trouble," Darius said, thoughtfully.  "They're good boys, but a little misguided at times."

"I am afraid that at the moment, they are in great trouble," Aragorn replied, dismay in his voice.  He had known both boys since they had been born, and their father had been well respected within the palace.  "Thank you once again Darius."

"My pleasure to help if I can," came the reply.


	9. Chapter 9

The last golden rays of sunlight were making slanted patterns over the world when we finally reemerged from Darius' shop.  Aragorn squinted at the sun, noting the position, but he did not yet take a step.  His shoulders were slumped slightly, and I touched one lightly before speaking.

"Aragorn?" I questioned.

"Now comes the worst part of being king," he whispered.  "Ripping families apart.  It is bad enough that I have too many memories of children preparing to fight and die in the war, but now…"

"I know," I said.  "The memories plague me as well, but this is different."

Aragorn shook his proud head.  "No, it's not."

 "Surely it must be," I said, not quite sure what Aragorn meant.  

But it was clear that he would be saying no more on the subject.  He turned to face the narrow, stone paved streets of Gondor.

"Come," he said, "let us get this over with and bring justice to your family."

With that, he began to make his way down the street, his pace neither eager to get to the boys nor trying to avoid the inevitable.  Instead, his pace was steady and even, and his figure was drawn up proudly once more.  The crown on his head shone as with a flame, as it caught the remaining beams of sunlight.  Still he forged on, down the smooth stone streets.  One, two alleyways passed us to both our left and right.  Now at last we came to the third, and without a word, the three of us turned to the left, entering the narrow space, where we knew we would find the entrance.  A collective deep breath was taken and slowly released before Aragorn brought up his hand to knock on the door.

The sound fell thick and heavy on the wooden door and after a moment, a woman came to answer.  Aragorn recognized her as Rebajh, the wife of the deceased Anteron and mother of the young criminals.

"My lord," she said, bowing.  "What can I do for you?"

"May we come in?" Aragorn asked.  "My friends and I must speak with you.  Are your sons home by any chance?"

"No, they have not come back from the market yet.  But please, come in, my lord."

She ushered us into the small house.  It was clean and well kept, but the signs of hard times were evident.  The sparse furniture was worn and tattered in places.  A pot of meager stew was boiling on the fire at the far end of the cooking area and on the table was a half a loaf of bread.  Even Rebajh's clothing suggested a level of poverty, for it was threadbare in places, with faint stains here and there, no doubt caused from cooking meals and cleaning the house.  

"Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the shabby chairs in the dimly lit living space.  

"Thank you," Aragorn replied and we each took to our seats as Rebajh lit candles all about the room and stoked the fire higher for light.

A heavy silence followed her movements, and Gimli and I could sense that Aragorn was trying to figure out how to begin speaking to her.  It would not be easy, we both knew.

"You have a lovely home," he said at last.

"It serves its' purpose," she replied.  "Warmth and shelter, that is."  Aragorn looked at her quizzically, but she made no offer of further explanation.

"I have heard that you have fallen on hard times," he said.  To this, she nodded.  "Hmmm…," he mused.  "And what of your late husband's pension?"

Rebajh looked up at him sharply.  "Pension?"

"Yes.  When Anteron passed away last year, I gave word to send you and your sons a monthly pension.  Your husband was a loyal guard and I had promised him that I would see his family cared for, if ever it came that he could not provide for them."

"But my lord, this is the first that I have heard of this."

"Did Volus never come by here with it?"

"Never my lord."

A look of slight anger passed over Aragorn's face.  "I will see to it that this is taken care of when I return back to the palace," he said.

"Thank you, sire," said Rebajh, gratefully.  "But my lord, it cannot be just a social call that brings you to my home, humble as it is."

"You speak truly.  I came on a matter of business.  My friends and I believe…we have evidence that your sons were involved with a crime," he replied.

"Crime?  There's been very little crime in Gondor lately.  What is it that you believe they have done?"

"This would not have been in the city itself, but in Ithilien.  There has been a murder, and all evidence suggests that your boys were involved."  The words came out thickly from his mouth, with no small amount of pity for the poor woman before us.  "We have come so that they might be questioned further, and tried under the law if need be."

"No," Rebajh wept.  "It cannot be."

The sound of the door opening broke us away from the distraught woman.  Cheerful shouts of "Mother, we're home," came towards us.  As for me, I now felt torn.  On the one hand, Aragorn, Gimli, and myself were about to take away the children of this weeping woman.  On the other hand, I was about to come face to face with the individuals that had stolen away my family.  Images of Elen, Anoron, and little Aragorn flashed across my eyes.  I took a deep breath in preparation for what was to come.

Now the boys came into the living area, tossing tattered jackets onto a chair, though they stopped dead in their tracks when they caught sight of Aragorn and me.  I could see a look of nervousness cross their faces, which they quickly acted to suppress.  They were caught and they both knew it.

"My lord," they said as with one voice.

"Tenoan and Eleros," Aragorn acknowledged.  "I suppose you both know why I have come."

They nodded slowly, fear evident in their eyes.

"Will you come quietly?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good," Aragorn nodded.  "Then I will not have to restrain you as severely as I had thought."

With this, he produced two lengths of rope and bound the boys' wrists behind their backs.  Neither one of them made a move to resist Aragorn, which mildly surprised me, for I had thought that they would at least put up some small struggle.  Instead, both bore a look of defeat.  Both of the boys kept their eyes cast downward, and if they did look up, they avoided my gaze.

It was well after sun down when we finally began our solemn march towards the jail and ultimately back to the palace.  The trial would take place the following day.  Aragorn and I both agreed that it would be best to take care of the situation as quickly as possible and as quietly as possible.  We did not feel that the situation should have to be made public, for none in Gondor knew of my family's death.

But stories will leak out no matter what and by the end of the night, as I walked around the city with Gimli to get fresh air, most of the people in Minas Tirith knew of what had transpired, though we wondered how.  Our quiet court would now have to be public.   

  The next day dawned bright and fair, with a chill wind coming in from the west.  Aragorn decided to move the trial from the throne room in the palace to the city hall.  Most of the residents of the city showed up that morning to see what was to occur, and I got the feeling that they knew something that I did not.


	10. Chapter 10

Before long, the trial began, seeing Aragorn, Arwen and myself seated on an upper dais in three overly plush chairs.  Eldarion had been left at the palace in the care of one of the nursemaids, for the child was too young to be brought to a court.  Gimli, I noticed, had been seated in the front row of the public seating area, along with some of the elves from my kingdom.  Darius too was seated there, in case there should be need to testify that the boot tracks that had been found had been indeed left by the two boys.  More of the citizens of Minas Tirith filtered in, filling in the rows of seats until there was standing room only, and that too became cramped.  There had not been much trouble in Gondor for some time now, and this certainly was a huge deal to the people, for murder had occurred within their very borders.  The fact that the murderers had been of their own stock was even more of a public interest.

At last, the guards from the jail brought forth Tenoan and Eleros, wrists and ankles bound, to sit before Aragorn to await judgment.  Their mother, Rebajh, wept bitterly off to one side.  Aragorn stood to signify that the hearing was now in session.  Immediately, the murmurs of the onlookers ceased.

"Tenoan and Eleros, sons of Anteron, you have been charged with the murders of Queen Elen, Princess Anoron, and Prince Aragorn, the royal elven family of Itlilien."  Here there were scattered gasps throughout the seating area, obviously escaping from the lips of those whose ears had not heard who it was that had been killed.  Aragorn ignored them and continued on.  "You have been brought here today to be questioned as to your involvement in this crime and to be judged accordingly under the ancient laws of the city.  Now, I must have your word that you will tell the truth in its entirety."

"You have my word," Tenoan said immediately, for he was the more brazen of the two boys.

"Yes my lord.  I will speak the truth," Eleros said after his brother had spoken.

"Good," Aragorn said, nodding.  "Now then, I want to hear your side of the story, for I have only the evidence that I myself collected."

"It all started about a week before the murder," Tenoan began.  "As you probably guessed from the condition of our home that you saw, hard times have hit us.  This has been ever since our father passed away last year.  Mother had gone out to the market to try and find some sort of herbs to blend into a tea because Eleros was feeling a little ill.  It looked like it might rain that day, and we both tried to make her stay home, but she would not hear of it.  Well, I stayed home to take care of my brother.  I'm not so good with telling what herbs are the freshest, so our mother would not allow me to go to the market for her.  Well, anyway, she had only been gone for a quarter of an hour or so and there came a knock at the door.  I answered it and there was this man standing there.  He was dressed in black robes which hid whatever else he may have been wearing, but I vaguely recognized him as one of your men, my lord."

"One of my men?" asked Aragorn.

Tenoan nodded.  "Aye sire, he was one of yours.  I could not remember his name but I knew him from the times that I had been in the palace with my father."

"And you Eleros?  Did you see this man too?" Aragorn asked.

The shorter of the two boys nodded his head fearfully.  "Yes my lord.  If you'll pardon my saying, he looked like a man of great importance.  He spoke like one too and with great urgency."

"Did you recognize him at all or could you point him out?"

"I think so, yes, but he wore a hood and some of his face was blocked by it," Eleros replied.  "All I remember clearly was a great scar on his chin."

I could see Aragorn thinking about this.  The boys took his silence to mean that they should continue their story.

It was Tenoan that spoke up once more.  "I invited him in with great hesitation and only because he promised that he could help us get out of being in poverty.  He said that he had access to great wealth and that we had but to perform one simple task for him.  When he knew for sure that we had done it, he would provide us with such wealth that we would never want for anything again.  Needless to say, we both were interested in what he had to say after that.  As you have seen, our mother is not so young anymore and neither of us wanted to have to see her continuing to break her back working for meager wages."

"So we listened to what he had to say.  We were to ride out to Ithilien at some point the following week to the royal home.  We were supposed to slip inside and kill them all," Eleros said, shuddering at the memory.  "Both of us said that we were no longer interested in his proposal and we tried to force him back outside and forget that he ever came to us.   Neither of us have a problem with the elves living within our borders.  But the man turned against us and drew his sword, threatening us.  'Since I cannot tempt you with money', he said, 'I will tempt you with your lives.  I have come on the wishes of King Elessar.'  At this, he took out some legal looking document, but neither one of us could read it.  He put it away again just as fast.  'Kill the elves or you yourselves shall be killed after watching your mother die.'"

Tenoan jumped back in, for Eleros had suddenly gone silent, as if reliving the exchange between the three.  "We asked him why your lordship would want to see the royals dead, but he would not answer, saying only that his orders came from you and that he did not know the reason.  Then he turned and left.  Eleros and I looked at one another not knowing what to do.  When our mother came home, we did not speak a word of what had happened.  But the next day the same man cornered us when we were out doing odd jobs for what money we could make."

"He scared us terribly and we knew that his threats were real, whether or not he came with orders from you, my lord."  It was Eleros again.  "So we decided that we had to go through with it, or at least warn Lord Legolas.  We decided on a day and when it came around, we went to the royal household.  When we got there though, our plan changed.  We had planned to warn them about the threats against them.  It was urgent, so we snuck around, noticing that there were no servants around, and we pried the door open so we could get inside.  I think we frightened the queen by our unexpected appearance.  She began to yell and that scared us, because we did not know if there were any servants in the house that we had not seen."

"What did you do at that point?" Aragorn asked.

"We tried to explain, but our pleas went unheard.  I think the knives in our hands had frightened the queen, for we had neglected to put them away; an oversight if you will.  She ran at us, trying to protect the children," here Eleros took a breath, "and we reacted, raising our hands to protect us."  He demonstrated with his hands the defensive position he and his and brother had taken.  "She ran into the dagger that Tenoan held.  I ran to seek help, but found no one in the house.  At that point, I even hoped to find Lord Legolas there.  But there was no one and when I came back, Queen Elen was already dead.  Tenoan slit her throat to make it look like we had done what we had been commissioned to do.  I noticed that the princess too had been wounded in a similar matter."

"After her mother was wounded, she rushed at me, taking up Eleros' dagger, which he had let fall off to one side when he left the room.  She fought me, quite skillfully, and I had to wound her to save my own life, though I never intended to cause her death.  When she fell back, the dagger hit the young prince.  Believe me, I never wanted that to happen.  But both died, despite what I tried to do to save them.  So I slit their throats as I had done with the queen, because I feared what might happen if the man who had come to us found out what had happened."

A silence fell over the room as everyone took in what had been said.  I felt myself relaxing a little, for without even realizing it, I had been scrutinizing each of the boy's faces as they had told their story.  And I had seen no lie in their faces or their eyes.  Aragorn made a motion to me.  We would be conferring in a private room off to the side, for he wanted to hear my opinion.

"I thank you for your side of the story," he said to the boys.  "But I require a private moment with Legolas.  We shall reconvene in a few short moments.  Guards, no one is to leave here."

Now Aragorn stood and I followed him to the private chambers that we would be speaking.  Inside, he closed the door behind us and together we stood in the center of the room.  Aragorn looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

"What do you make of it?" he asked.

"I saw no lie in their eyes," I replied.  "I think that they are telling the truth, though I still cannot figure out why they did not seek help earlier."

"I think they were afraid," Aragorn said.  "Or at least, they were afraid of me, in case the story were to be true and I did order your family to be killed."  He sighed deeply.  

"Who do you think the man was?"

"Volus.  I am almost sure of it.  He has a recognizable scar on his chin, the result of a sword training accident when he first began his training as a warrior for the city.  He proved not to be well suited for that role, but he showed particular interest in handling the palace finances."

"Which would explain his access to great wealth," I offered.

Aragorn nodded.  "I was suspicious that he was doing something underhanded ever since Rebajh said that she had not yet received Anteron's pension.  Volus had assured me that she was receiving every last once of it."  There was an underlying anger in his voice now.

 "I think it is best that we interrogate him," I said.

"Indeed." 


	11. Chapter 11

With our minds made up, we emerged from the room and took our places back in the trial.  Tenoan and Eleros were excused from the testifying seats and two burly jail guards showed them to two empty seats.  Now Aragorn called on Volus, whom he had just chastised last night about the pension.

"Volus," Aragorn began, his voice even and steady, showing no hint as to what he was about to do.  "Come take your place at the stand.  I have need to question you."

From the back of the room, where he had been sitting, a figure emerged.  It was Volus, dressed in garb fitting of a trusted palace employee, the tree and stars emblazoned across the chest.  I searched his face closely.  Though he tried to veil it, there was fear written upon it.  He was nearly caught; and he knew it.

"I am ready to answer what questions you have in truth," he said as he sat down.

Aragorn was angered, I could tell, from the way his body tensed next to my own.  Volus always had been arrogant, but now he had such nerve as to act thusly in front of Aragorn's subjects.  Protocol held that first the king was to speak and then the other.  Under no circumstance in a formal setting was another to answer the king before having been engaged in conversation.  Personally, I had never liked Volus for his arrogance and often wondered why Aragorn kept him on.  But the man was brilliant in handling the kingdom's finances and so he had been allowed to stay on as a worker.

But Aragorn kept his composure, continuing on as if Volus had never even spoken.  

"Volus, the story that Tenoan and Eleros told has left questions in my mind.  To be honest, it seems to me that you are the only one who fits the description of the hooded man that they spoke of.  I will ask you now if you will cooperate with me and tell me truthfully your side of the story."

Volus nodded saying, "I will, my lord."

"Good.  Now then, tell me, have you ever contacted these two boys before?"

"Assuredly not."

"You did not contact them regarding Legolas and his family?"

"No my lord, I would never."

"But it is true that you never gave the pension money that was owed to the family to them, isn't it?"

Volus hung his head.  "That is true, sire."

"And tell me, why is that?  I decreed that it should be so.  Why would you disobey such a command?"

"Their father…he was not worth it.  He was a descent warrior, I agree.  But the amount that you commanded, it bordered on absurd, or at least it did to me, and I have years of financial experience behind me."   

"And so you withheld the full amount?"

"A mistake on my part, but yes."

"Why?"

"I thought that the money could be put to better use."

"And what better use is there than human compassion?"

"The war and the restoration efforts took a heavy toll on the kingdom and the treasury.  I realize that that was a long time ago, but still, the damage was done.  By using the pension money, I was able to boost up several other programs.  Not by much of course, but every little bit helped."

Aragorn studied the other man's face hard.  "Volus," he said at length, "you knew that the pension money was greatly needed where I had commanded it.  I do not believe that you were innocent in contacting the boys either.  Legolas?"

I shook my head.  "I am in agreement with Aragorn.  Where I saw no lie in the eyes of the boys, I see it all in yours."

Volus almost imperceptibly sighed.  Now he truly was caught.

"Tell us the truth then, the whole story," Aragorn commanded.

"All right," Volus said, slumping his shoulders forward.  "You shall have it then.  What I told you already about the treasury, that is all true, but I admit, I knew that the boys' family needed the money.  So I devised a plan one night.  I would pay them the pension money if they in turn did some service to me.  But what that service was to be, I could not decide.  Then, it came to me.  It was finally time to see Gondor restored as a kingdom of men.  So I approached the boys and told them to kill the royal family in Ithilien.  When I had proof, they would receive their dues."

"And why would you want to see Legolas and his family dead?  What grievance do you bear against them? "

"Nothing personal, I assure you, but an inborn hatred of the elves.  I reasoned that if I could see the royal family dead, then the rest would leave our kingdom.  Gondor was built on the sweat and blood of men.  What reason do we have to share our land with them?"

"It was by the blood and sweat of Legolas as well as men who vouchsafed Gondor's survival in its darkest hours of the war," Aragorn said sharply, angered.  "And if you bear such disdain for the blood of the Firstborn, I may rightly assume that extends to my wife and your queen."  

"No, my lord.  She willingly gave up her immortal life to stay by your side in our city.  I bear no ill will towards her."

I gave a quick glance at Aragorn and Arwen, who both wore a look of shock and disgust.  Aragorn caught my glance and shot me a comforting look.  Volus would not be getting away with his words or deeds.

"I am ready to pass judgment," Aragorn said, rising.  "Guards, bring all of the accused forward."

The two guards tending to Tenoan and Eleros came forward, the boys between them.  A third guard bound Volus and brought him forward as well.

"Volus, under the laws of the White City as written and passed down by my forefathers, I find you guilty of conspiring murder and of treason.  Under or law, you are to be executed.  Tenoan, Eleros, I have a harder decision before me.  The laws clearly state that since you spilled blood that resulted in death, that you are to die as well, involuntary though it was."

Here there mother gasped and fell to her knees, tears streaming from her eyes.  I suspected that it would be a matter of moments before she would approach Aragorn and try to plead for the lives of her sons.  I was not about to let her do so.

"Aragorn, if I may," I said, rising to my own feet.  "I would like a word."

Aragorn turned, looking at me.  "Of course."

"Spill no more blood," I urged him.  "Enough has already been spilt.  Killing them will not bring Elen back, nor will it bring back Anoron or Aragorn.  And I…I will not sit idly by and watch more lives be lost."

A glint came into Aragorn's eyes and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  He was glad that I had spoken up.  But now he had to play the part of a traditional king and challenge me without giving in right away.  I shot him and understanding look, which he acknowledged.

"My friend, I am afraid that the laws of the kingdom call for their deaths.  Would you have me break from that tradition?"

"I would," I replied.

"Listen to him," said Arwen, for the first time speaking her mind.  "We must respect his wishes.  They are noble and without fault."

"My dear," Aragorn began, "this is our law.  What would I do with them otherwise?  Certainly there must be punishment dealt."

"Not for the boys, no," I replied.  "They are innocent.  As for Volus, do what you will with him, only spare his life."

Aragorn looked at me in deep thought for a moment.  "I will do as you ask.  Tenoan, Eleros, by the grace of Lord Legolas you are hereby given pardon for your involvement in this crime.  Return to your home in peace.  Guards, you may release them."

Here the two broke from the guards and embraced the knees of myself and Aragorn, thanking us both.  Their mother, weeping, did the same.

"As for you, Volus, I hereby sentence you to life in prison," Aragorn said. "Sentence is effective immediately.  Guards, take him from my sight."

"Thank you," I said to Aragorn at last, hugging him once the last citizen had left the trial to return to their lives.  

He shook his head.  "No, thank you.  You saved the lives of three people today, though you had every right to sit by and let the traditions of the city punish them."

"Letting them die was never an option.  But why did you not tell me sooner what the law called for?"

"If I had, would you still have listened to them the same way?  Or would you have wanted them to be innocent to save them?" he asked, in his wise, knowing way.  

The trial was now over.  The culprits had been found and punished.  My family had been avenged.  A great weight seemed to lift itself from my shoulders and for the first time since I'd found my family murdered, I felt at peace.  


	12. Chapter 12

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I sincerely apologize for the absurdly long update. A writer's worst enemy is the dreaded Writer's Block, and I had a bad case of it in regards to this story. It lasted long enough to break my interest from this story. This will be my final chapter of this particular story, which wound up being much longer than originally planned, so I'm ready to wrap it up.

Life beyond the trial has always been difficult for me. I became a father without his children, a husband without his wife. Aragorn, I think, worried for my life, for he knew quite well that aside from death in battle, a broken heart could kill an elf. I knew this too, and was ever thankful that I had Aragorn, Gimli, and Arwen in my life. In all honesty, they saved my life, for they helped make it bearable.

I became Uncle Legolas to little Eldarion and his sister and often visited the children, for they fostered my paternal instincts. Sometimes Eldarion would come and stay in Ithilien in my home for a few days and when he was only enough, I began to teach him how to use a bow. Gimli was a constant fixture in my home as well, and it felt good to have my friend so close. In time, the danger of death passed like a shadow in the noonday sun.

The years passed quickly, the seasons blending one into the other without my even acknowledgement. I still had a kingdom to run, though as time passed, there became less and less of the Eldar to lord over. Steadily, my people made their way to the Grey Havens, passing over the sea to the Undying Lands. The dormant Sea-Longing was stirred slightly in my heart, but as I had done before, I forced it back down, ignoring it. There was still too much keeping my heart bound to Arda. Still, the thought of being reunited with my father and mother was always in the deep recesses of my thought. At length, there came the final day of my reign as king. The last of my people began their journey. I was now the last of the wood elves left in Middle Earth. Rivendell had long since been emptied and Lothlorien wrapped in silence, never to hear the songs of the elves again.

I reasoned to myself that now was the time to leave Middle Earth myself; that there was nothing else left for me to do. Why should I not take my leave? My ship was ready. All I had to do was make the journey to the Havens. And yet I could not bring myself to do so. And then, everything changed.

Many years had gone by since the war had been won and Sauron destroyed. Gondor had flourished under the gentle hand of King Elessar. But even the great Numenorean had grown weary and the years did not leave him unscathed. True, he was blessed with long life, but he was not immortal. After my people had left, Aragorn had bidden me to live within his palace, for now there was nothing left for me in Ithilien. I readily accepted the offer, knowing that he was right. And so I now began to see how the years had started to touch the king. His dark hair became silver, the lines of care and turmoil that he carried more pronounced, though now they seemed lines of years spent in bliss. His steps became slower and his movements more deliberate. A sadness came into his eyes that I could not ignore.

Then the day dawned when the king of Gondor passed away and his son and heir, Eldarion, took the throne.

Aragorn's passing was a bitter time and not a soul in Gondor and Rohan did not weep for the dead king. All who knew him, or knew of him, had loved him. As for Gimli and myself, the cruel hand of death had stolen from us more than a friend, but a brother. Arwen did not take her husband's death well and was ever after but a wraith of herself, pale and deathlike herself. It was not long after that she left Minas Tirith and did not return.

Now at last I felt my mission in Middle Earth complete and the Sea-Longing would no longer be ignored. I began to make preparations for my final journey. Gimli, I noticed, began to sulk, not wishing to lose yet another friend. Indeed, my own heart broke and I often thought that if only I could stay in Arda for a while longer, I could avoid leaving the dwarf behind. But the pull of the sea was too great, having been stifled for far too long in my heart. Reluctantly, I forced myself to accept the fact that I would have to leave my dwarven behind.

The final night of my life in Arda came to pass. That night I lay in a dream, in which I could see the Lady Galadriel. Behind her stood Elrond and Gandalf, all keepers of the elven rings of power.

"Legolas, son of Thranduil," I heard her say in my mind, though her lips moved not. "You prepare to travel to the Havens, your heart torn in two. Resolve yourself to the journey and regret nothing. All of the Firstborn must pass into Valinor, this you know. And yet your heart grieves. But this I say: Forget your grief, for though you are the last of the elves to leave Arda, you shall not travel alone."

"How?" I thought. "Even Cirdan the shipwright has left these shores. Who now shall travel with me over so wide a sea?"

"A dear friend, my young prince," said she, in response to my thoughts. "Gimli shall accompany you."

"But he is not of elven blood," I wondered. "Surely he may come to the Havens, but not board the ship. Though Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam have been admitted to do so, Gimli is no more a ring bearer than I a mortal man."

To this, the lady laughed and her eyes seemed to smile. "And yet he shall board the ship and come into Valinor, for his friendship with you has more than earned him a place by your side until the end. I, Galadriel, have named him elf-friend, much as your father titled Bilbo, and so he is permitted into the Undying Lands. But awake now and begin your journey.!"

With that, I was awake, knowing in my heart that it was not merely a dream that I had been having, but a message from the Lady herself. Excited, I ran into Gimli's room, not caring that dawn had not even broken, and relayed the entire message to him. Now the dwarf too, was beginning to show that age had not left him untouched, but as I spoke it seemed to me that age fell from him and he was once again the young dwarf that I had met in Rivendell and made to travel with. He began to pack his things at once, eager for the journey and talking excitedly, for now he was to remain by my side and he would see the Lady of Lothlorien again as well.

The sound of Gimli's snores jars me suddenly from my thoughts. The night has melted away into day; the sun is just beginning to pour out her light as she peeks above the horizon. Gimli is sleeping sitting in his chair under the open sky and I can see the graying hairs mingled with the dark ones of his head and beard. I sigh to myself. He is definitely not as young as he once was. Neither am I, but I do not think that I show it. Perhaps I am a little wiser than I was when I was with the Fellowship, but time has no rotting effect on the Eldar.

To my left, I see a gull flying low to the water's surface. He too is nearing the end of a journey and the sea calls to him. I know that he is going to die, that bird, and I cannot help but think how his story is like that of my friends. All have made their journey, some over the sea and out of Arda, and others in death, all of them never to return. And yet life still continues on in Arda and outside of it.

"Hannon le," I say to the bird, thanking him for his story, for now my heart feels strangely lighter.

I look out into the distance, squinting a little in the sunlight, which now comes much stronger as the sun climbs higher in the sky. Suddenly I see it; a stretch of white shores and my heart leaps. Valinor is before us. Before I can wake Gimli, a flash of silver just barely makes it to my eyes and in my heart I know what it is that I saw.

"Gimli," I say, shaking the dwarf lightly to awaken him.

"Confounded elf! Just because you like to greet the sun as soon as it rises, does not mean that we dwarves need to as well!"

I laugh as his feigned annoyance, for his eyes betrayed the forced wrath of his tongue.

"Well, what is it? Do not tell me that you have awoken me just for a laugh."

"Nay, Gimli," I say and shake my head. "We are drawing near to Valinor. I cannot be certain, but I think that the Lady Galadriel awaits our arrival on the shores. A saw a glint of silver, the sun reflecting off her ring perhaps."

Gimli is on his feet in a flash and peering into the distance, though I know that his eyesight is not quite what it once was. A point towards the shores and this time three flashes of light catch my eye. We are being welcomed home.


End file.
